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Shane wasn’t a huge fan of bars.
They were loud. Sticky. Someone was always yelling over music that was already too loud. And after three drinks, complete strangers suddenly decided you were close enough to hear about the worst decisions of their lives.
Unfortunately, Ilya loved them.
Which was exactly why Shane was here.
“You’re doing it again.”
Shane looked up from his beer.
“Doing what?”
“The overthinking thing.”
“I wasn’t overthinking.”
“You were staring at the beer menu like it was a legal document.”
Shane glanced back at it.
“There are twelve beers.”
“There are four.”
“There are twelve.”
“Eight of them are same beer with different branding.”
“I was making an informed decision.”
“You already ordered.”
“I was checking if I made the right one.”
Ilya laughed, warm and entirely too pleased with himself.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
Shane rolled his eyes.
Sometimes he genuinely wondered how they’d managed to stay friends for almost five years.
They’d met through a recreational hockey team.
Shane had signed up because he missed playing. Hockey had been part of his life for years before work and routine quietly pushed it aside. When someone mentioned a local team needed another defenseman, he figured it was worth giving it another shot.
On his first day, everyone else already seemed to know each other. Conversations bounced easily across the benches while Shane unpacked in silence, tied his skates, and tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.
Warm-up lasted all of five minutes before one guy decided to make basic passing drills unnecessarily dramatic.
He skated through three defenders for absolutely no reason, lost the puck, stole it back, laughed the entire time, and somehow still scored.
Shane’s first impression was immediate.
Exhausting.
After practice, while Shane was pulling off his skates, that same guy dropped onto the bench beside him.
“You always this serious?”
Shane looked up.
“I’m taking off my skates.”
“Exactly.”
Shane frowned.
“What?”
“You look like you’re doing taxes.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Shane tugged one lace harder than necessary.
“Are you always this annoying?”
The grin that answered him was entirely unapologetic.
“Usually worse.”
Despite himself, Shane let out the smallest breath through his nose.
“Good to know.”
The guy laughed quietly, then leaned back against the bench.
For a moment, Shane expected him to say something else.
Instead, he just sat there. Like the silence wasn’t awkward.
Then he nodded toward the door.
“A few of us are getting burgers. Wanna come?”
Shane looked at him.
“You don’t know me.”
“Not yet.”
He said it with such easy certainty that it barely sounded like an invitation. More like a fact that simply hadn’t happened yet.
It should have been reason enough to decline.
Shane hardly knew anyone. His original plan involved going home, taking a shower and pretending his first practice hadn’t been slightly embarrassing.
Instead, he heard himself say,
“Fine.”
The grin widened immediately.
“Knew you’d come.”
Shane sighed.
“What’s your name?”
“Ilya.”
“I’m Shane.”
“I know.”
Shane looked at him.
“How?”
“The coach yelled it every thirty seconds.”
“..Right.”
Ilya stood and grabbed his bag.
“Come on.”
Back in the present, Ilya was absently tapping the side of his glass, watching the foam slowly slide down the inside.
The bar was packed. The air was warm with too many people, too much noise and the smell of beer. Music drifted from unseen speakers, fighting for space with overlapping conversations and bursts of laughter.
At the table beside them, a group of women was clearly several cocktails into a bachelorette party. The bride wore a white sash that had slipped off one shoulder, while someone across from her was unsuccessfully trying to balance a plastic tiara on her head.
Shane had noticed them when they sat down.
Mostly because it had been impossible not to.
“I saw a clip yesterday,” Ilya finally said.
Shane took another sip of his beer, already suspicious.
“I already hate where this is going.”
Ilya smiled.
“You haven’t even heard it.”
“That’s usually when I start worrying.”
“It was one of those reality shows.”
“Which one?”
“People getting paid to do stupid things on camera.”
Shane set his glass down.
“I have a feeling you’re leaving something out.”
“I probably am.”
Shane sighed.
“Go on.”
“A guy refused to kiss another guy.”
Shane shrugged.
“Okay.”
“For five hundred euros.”
That made Shane pause.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes, can you believe it? I would’ve definitely done it.”
Shane didn’t even look surprised.
“Of course you would’ve.”
“Five hundred euros is five hundred euros.”
Shane shook his head.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a guy.”
Ilya looked genuinely confused.
“A guy?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
Shane turned his glass between his hands.
“I wouldn’t do it.”
“Not even for five hundred?”
“No.”
He looked back at Ilya.
“I wouldn’t kiss a guy for money.”
Ilya studied him.
“Why?”
The question caught Shane off guard.
“..because I’m straight.”
Ilya looked down at his drink for a second.
The bar continued around them.
Someone ordered another round.
A dart hit the board.
The bride at the next table laughed as someone tried to fix her crooked tiara.
“..Right,” Ilya said, “I still don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I want to.”
Shane looked at him.
“You’re overthinking this.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow.
“That’s usually your job.”
Despite himself, Shane laughed.
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Shane opened his mouth to answer.
Then someone interrupted them.
“Sorry.”
Both men turned.
The brunette from the table beside them was looking over her shoulder, one hand still wrapped around her drink.
She gave them an apologetic smile, though the expression on her face suggested she was anything but sorry.
“Were you two seriously arguing about whether someone would kiss a guy for money?”
Shane stared at her.
For a second, he wondered how much of the conversation she had actually heard.
Apparently enough.
Ilya, meanwhile, looked far too entertained.
“You got curious. That’s on you.”
The woman laughed.
“I wasn’t trying to listen. You’re just not exactly having a quiet conversation.”
Shane glanced around the bar.
“We’re not that loud.”
She gave him a look.
“You really are.”
Ilya hid a smile behind his glass.
Shane noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“That’s different.”
The brunette shook her head.
“Alright, I need context.”
“You really don’t,” Shane said.
“That means I do.”
She looked between them.
“How much money?”
“Five hundred euros,” Ilya answered.
One of the other women at the table leaned closer.
She looked between them.
“So which one of you would actually do it?”
“I would,” Ilya said.
Shane gave him a look.
The woman laughed.
“And you?”
Shane shook his head.
“No.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
The brunette smiled.
“Five hundred euros is a lot of money.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Shane said.
She tilted her head.
“You’re really sure about that?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly.
She exchanged a look with her friends.
The brunette smiled.
“Now I’m curious.”
Shane sighed.
“About what?”
“If you mean it.”
“I do.”
She reached into her handbag.
“I’m not trying to prove you wrong.”
“That’s usually what people say before they try.”
The table laughed.
She pulled out her wallet and placed the bills on the table.
“Five hundred if you kiss your friend.”
That escalated quickly.
For a moment, nobody said anything.
Shane looked at the money on the table.
Then at the brunette.
Then back at the money.
Five hundred euros.
It was a stupid amount of money to get hung up on.
Five hundred euros could cover groceries for weeks. It could go toward the new hockey equipment he had been putting off buying. It could sit in his savings account and disappear into something responsible.
It was also five hundred euros for something that would take a few seconds.
The thought annoyed him immediately.
Because that was exactly the argument Ilya had been making.
“So?”
He looked up.
The brunette was waiting.
He pushed the money back toward her.
“No.”
A few of the women reacted with surprised laughs.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She looked at him like she was trying to figure out whether he was joking.
“You’re turning down five hundred euros?”
“Yes.”
Ilya watched him quietly from across the table.
Shane knew that look. It was the same one he got whenever he was pretending not to be amused.
Shane noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That look means something.”
Ilya smiled slightly.
“I’m just impressed you’re actually sticking to it.”
Shane frowned.
“Obviously.”
The brunette leaned back in her chair.
“Okay.”
She took the money back.
Then one of the women beside her, who had been watching the entire exchange, reached into her purse.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at her.
She pulled out a few bills and added them to the pile.
“Six hundred.”
Shane stared at the table.
The brunette laughed.
“Are we really doing this?”
Apparently, they were.
Shane looked away.
Six hundred.
That was more than he expected.
More than it should have mattered.
He could replace the jacket he had been wearing for years. He could finally book that weekend trip he had kept postponing. He could buy something completely unnecessary and still have money left over.
His brain immediately started doing the math.
“No.”
The women groaned.
Ilya raised his eyebrows.
“You’re still saying no?”
Shane looked at him.
“Yes.”
A smile tugged at Ilya’s mouth.
“Interesting.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
The brunette shook her head, laughing.
“Okay, I have to admit, I respect the commitment.”
Shane relaxed slightly.
Finally, someone understood.
Then the woman beside her looked at the money again.
Shane froze.
The bills landed on the table.
“Seven-fifty.”
The conversation around them seemed to disappear for a second.
Seven hundred and fifty euros.
His first thought was that it was ridiculous.
His second was that it was a lot of money.
His third was that he was having a very serious internal debate about kissing his best friend in the middle of a bar.
Which was ridiculous, considering this was hardly the first line he and Ilya had crossed.
That realization should have ended the conversation.
Instead, it made him look at Ilya.
Ilya was watching him.
Intensively.
And somehow, that was the thing that finally made Shane stop arguing with himself.
He exhaled.
“Fine.”
The table erupted.
Shane immediately regretted every decision that had led him here.
A few surprised laughs followed, but Shane barely registered them.
His attention stayed on Ilya.
Somehow, the money on the table no longer felt like the important part.
“You actually said yes,” one of the women said.
Shane looked away from Ilya.
“I’m aware.”
A quiet laugh came from the table.
Shane ignored it.
Ilya picked up the money before someone could knock it over.
“You know you don’t have to do this.”
Shane looked at him.
“I know.”
The answer was too calm.
It bothered him.
“You’re supposed to say something annoying.”
A small smile appeared on Ilya’s face.
“Why?”
“Because that’s usually what you do.”
“I can.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“That sounded almost like a request.”
“It wasn’t.”
Ilya smiled.
Shane looked away.
The sensible thing would have been to take the money back and admit the whole thing had gone too far.
The conversation had started as a stupid argument.
Somehow, it had turned into this.
He should have felt embarrassed.
He should have wanted to end it.
Instead, he was still sitting there.
Still looking at Ilya.
Still waiting for himself to change his mind.
He didn’t.
“You’re thinking again,” Ilya said.
Shane sighed.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Ilya’s smile softened.
There was something familiar about that expression.
The same confidence he had carried the first day they met. The same look that had somehow convinced Shane to leave the rink with a group of strangers after practice.
The noise of the bar faded into the background.
For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.
Then Ilya leaned slightly closer.
“Still okay?”
Shane held his gaze.
The money.
The people watching.
All of it suddenly felt distant.
“I said yes.”
Ilya studied him for a second.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
Shane swallowed.
He meant for it to be quick. A formality. Proof that this was as stupid as it felt.
It wasn’t.
Ilya’s hand found his jaw like it belonged there, steady and familiar in a way Shane didn’t have time to question before it was already happening.
The kiss started like a joke. The problem was that neither of them had ever been very good at pretending it was only that.
There was a moment where neither of them moved and it felt less like hesitation and more like something they didn’t need to negotiate anymore.
Somewhere behind them the table reacted. Laughter. Cheers. Someone saying “I knew it.”
Shane didn’t really register it.
Ilya shifted slightly, like he was just adjusting his balance. Shane followed without thinking.
Ilya pulled back first, slow enough that it didn’t feel abrupt.
His forehead rested against Shane’s for a second.
Close enough that it would have been awkward with anyone else.
With him it wasn’t.
“Good deal?” he murmured.
Shane had to stop himself from smiling.
That would ruin the entire performance.
“Shut up,” he said.
It came out softer than it should have.
Ilya gave a small laugh like he already knew that tone.
Two blocks later, the night air hit his face properly.
“You good?” Ilya asked.
“I hate that we’re good at this.”
“We’re very good at it,” Ilya said, slipping the cash into his jacket like it was muscle memory. “Better than last week.”
Shane glanced at him. “You’re keeping score again.”
“Of course I am.” Ilya bumped his shoulder with his own. “It’s literally our date night activity.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Most couples go to the cinema.”
“We go out and get paid to kiss each other,” Ilya replied. “I think we’re doing fine.”
That shut Shane up for half a second.
Hearing it said that plainly still felt a little surreal.
They turned down the street, away from the bar, fingers brushing until Ilya eventually just took his hand like he always did when they were alone.
“You hesitated tonight,” Ilya said after a moment.
“I didn’t.”
“You did. Half a second. I felt it.”
Shane sighed. “I was adjusting the angle.”
“Mm-hm.”
“That’s called professionalism.”
“That’s called overthinking.”
Shane looked at him. “And you?”
Ilya smiled. “I was thinking my boyfriend is very kissable.”
Shane groaned immediately. “Don’t say it like that in public.”
“We literally just got paid for it in public.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It kind of is.”
A beat.
Then Shane said, quieter: “We’re insane.”
Ilya squeezed his hand. “We’re efficient.”
They walked a few steps in silence.
Then Ilya added casually:
“Same time next weekend?”
Shane didn’t even pretend to think about it. “Obviously.”
Ilya nodded. “Good. One more night and we might actually afford that vacation.”
Shane glanced at him. “Because of our very normal relationship.”
“Because of our very normal relationship,” Ilya agreed.
And this time, neither of them was pretending it was anything else.